sudden recovery of enthusiasm, I followed after him completely mystified.
We found our client and her granddaughter in the luncheon salon, where they were amusing themselves by talking to a Javanese Hill Mynah which had that species’ uncanny ability to mimic human voices and was passing remarks in the solemn tones of King Chula.
‘I suggest that you be seated, ladies,’ said Holmes. ‘I have some astonishing news for you.’
They looked at us wonderingly, but followed his suggestion. When they were seated, Holmes unfolded the newspaper and read aloud: ‘“Fatal Railway Accident at Paddington. Death of a Jubilee Guest. This newspaper was almost ready for press when we had word of a fatal tragedy on the Underground
railway station at Paddington. It appears that a passenger who had arrived from Birmingham via the main line was awaiting an Underground train when he missed his footing and fell from the platform, directly in the face of an arriving train, so that he was instantly killed. We are informed that the victim of this tragedy was none other than a foreign visitor to London, indeed, one of Her Majesty’s guests at her forthcoming celebration, Count Stepan Skovinski-Rimkoff, a distinguished member of the Imperial Court and a cousin of the new Tzar. Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard, one of the officers whose especial duty it is to protect Her Majesty’s guests, was summoned to the scene at once. He assures us that the matter was an unforeseeable tragedy, brought about by the crowding of the platform and the large numbers of persons visiting the capital at present.’”
There was a silence after my friend had read the astonishing news, then Mrs Fordeland said, ‘I do not think that I would have wished him dead, for all his evil cruelty. Does this mean that it is all over, Mr Holmes?’
‘I am sure of it,’ said Holmes.
‘But Holmes,’ I objected, ‘surely this will make Kyriloff worse! He will believe that the plot he talked about really existed. Will he not come after Mrs Fordeland again?’
‘He might wish to,’ agreed Holmes, ‘but he is unlikely to have the opportunity. The Tzar’s cousin has been killed in London while under the especial protection of Major Kyriloff. I imagine that the major will soon be summoned to Russia to explain himself, and a pretty poor explanation he has - that he was besieging the King of Mongkuria’s entourage in a hotel because he believed in a non-existent plot to kill the count, while the count was meeting his death elsewhere.’
As so often, events followed Sherlock Holmes’ prediction. By next morning there was no sign of Kyriloff’s roughs about the hotel and Holmes and I were soon able to take our farewells of our client and the King of Mongkuria and return to our accustomed haunts.
We had not been long returned to Baker Street when Lestrade paid us a call.
‘You remember,’ he said, once comfortably ensconced in the basket chair with a brandy and a cheroot,
‘that silly business in Rotten Row, Mr Holmes?’
‘Of course I do,’ said Holmes.
‘It was good of you to help us out there. We might have wasted a deal of time and effort chasing about after imaginary assassins.’
‘I’m sure you would have seen through Major Kyriloff’s ruse eventually,’ said Holmes, without a trace of a smile.
‘I had a nasty moment a couple of days ago, though. I was told that the very same man - that same Russian count - had been killed at Paddington tube station. I had a few unpleasant thoughts, I can tell you. Suppose it had been all proper at Rotten Row and somebody really was trying to nobble him?
There’d have been hell to pay and heads to roll at the Yard, I can tell you!’
‘It was an accident, was it not?’ asked Holmes.
‘So it was, Mr Holmes, and I was never more relieved in my life. I was down there like a whippet, but there was no doubt about it. He was standing in the crowd on the platform and, just as a train came in, he turned about and lost his balance, went straight in front of the train.’
‘You were able to establish this?’ said my friend.
‘Oh, indeed, Mr Holmes. Of course, not many people noticed till it was over. There was a foreign couple right beside him, but they didn’t speak much English, and there was an English lady, but she was hysterical, poor lady. It happened right in front of her and she could barely speak about it. Luckily there was one witness who saw all that happened. There was a soldier there, a Colonel Wilmshaw. He was very useful, gave us a complete account, like a military report.’
‘And you are sure it was an accident?’ persisted Holmes.
‘Oh, definitely. What else might it be?’
‘It occurred to me,’ said Holmes, ‘that, after the spurious incident in Rotten Row, Major Kyriloff might be trying to create the impression that the count was in danger so that he could dispose of him in due course.’
‘I thought of exactly that, Mr Holmes, as soon as I heard. Luckily Colonel Wilmshaw rules that out, but I did check up where Kyriloff was at the time. It seems that he has an interest in the King of Mongkuria and was hanging about the King’s hotel.’
‘Perhaps,’ suggested Holmes, ‘the Tzar intends to invade India by way of Mongkuria, though it would be the long way round.’
‘Perhaps,’ agreed the little policeman. ‘But there’s another aspect of the thing that really intrigues me, Mr Holmes. Do you believe in fate?’
‘I believe that a certain course of action, if persisted in, will lead inevitably to a certain result, if that’s what you mean, Inspector.’
Lestrade shook his head. ‘No, no. I mean that Kyriloff set up his silly joke in Hyde Park as though the count was to be killed and, blow me, days later the count dies by accident! I know you don’t believe in coincidence, Mr Holmes, but isn’t that a bit curious?’
‘You are becoming metaphysical, Lestrade,’ said Holmes. ‘It is not good for a scientist. It will mislead you. Stick to what is proven and to what is reasonable inference from what is proven. People who deal in the unprovable are not scientists - they are mystics. A detective must be a scientist.’
When Lestrade had left us, Holmes shut the door behind us with a thoughtful expression.
‘Wilmshaw!’ he said, quietly. ‘I should have realized that the second telegram went to him. So far from distracting Miss Wortley-Swan from her purpose, I innocently sent her the means. A combination of a peace-loving academic and a lady driven by two decades of grief would be unlikely to achieve a successful assassination, but I added an able professional soldier.’
‘You intend to let matters lie, then?’ I asked.
‘What would you do, Watson? You have the advantage of me. You have been married. At an early age I perceived the effect that women exercised upon me and steeled myself to avoid that response so that I might pursue my rational side. Still, I believe that the death of Skovinski-Rimkoff is not one that requires vengeance. If I were called to my account tonight, Watson, I would like to believe that I have left the world a little better. The law of three countries has failed to punish the count. I see no difficulty in leaving him to the justice of Miss Wortley- Swan.’
Although he often referred afterwards to the case as one of his failures, the knowledge that it was he who had involved Colonel Wilmshaw in the affair seemed to lift the dark blight that had struck Sherlock Holmes when he thought that the conspirators would fail.
Her Majesty’s Diamond Jubilee proceeded, unhindered by the death of the count, and Colonel
Wilmshaw duly received the decoration which had brought him to London. It was some weeks later that Holmes drew a newspaper announcement to my attention.
‘You remarked on one occasion,’ he said, ‘that I was in danger of converting this agency into a matrimonial service. It seems that my first adventure in that direction has been a good deal more successful than my poor efforts at detection.’
It was an announcement of the forthcoming marriage of Miss Agatha Wortley-Swan and Colonel
Wilmshaw.
Author’s Notes
